


Lost Chances

by I_wouldnt_be_one_of_them



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_wouldnt_be_one_of_them/pseuds/I_wouldnt_be_one_of_them
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never told her, and now it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Chances

There was once a chance I didn't take, and I have regretted it ever since. Well, not really just once. I had a lot of chances, and I didn't take any of them. I should have. I always thought there would be another moment, another chance, but I ran out of chances, and now it's too late.

I was once asked if I believed in soul mates. At the time, I sort of blew it off as a joke, and didn't really answer. I didn't tell her that yes, I did. I do.

I didn't answer, because she was the one asking. Ziva David. How could I tell her the truth?

I believe in soul mates, and I believe that Ziva was mine.

Ziva and I had a history. I like to think there was a click from the moment we met, but maybe I imagined it. I don't even know what to think anymore. We went through phases. Sometimes she hated me, and sometimes I tried to tell myself I hated her back. I killed the man she loved to protect her, and I almost lost her then. She tried to switch teams. But I saved her life in Somalia. She saved me from an explosion. We went undercover as a married couple, and we took it all the way, and it was pretty great. We went to Paris. We were partners, and we had each other's backs. We became friends. We became good friends. People kept thinking we were a couple, and I started wishing they were right.

What kills me is that I had a thousand chances to tell her. When we were trapped in an elevator, or after a case, or when she was hurting and needed a friend, or any of the countless times we were alone together. There were so many moments when it would have been right to tell her how I felt. Ask her out. Tell her I wanted to break rule number twelve into smithereens. Tell her I loved her.

I did. I loved her.

It's too late now. I can never tell her. I can never know if she ever felt the same.

There was a case, and we had to go into an old warehouse, and my instinct said we shouldn't go in there. But Ziva was laughing at my concerns, teasing me for being superstitious about a creepy old warehouse. She said it would be fine, but she said we could stay. I had the chance to not go in, and she would have stayed with me. But I had to be the big, strong, courageous guy. I had to be the show-off, the Dinozzo. So we went in.

My instincts were right. It was a trap. They were waiting for us inside. We were there for all of thirty seconds when she was shot.

She died in my arms.

And I didn't tell her.

And I never can.

There were chances I didn't take, and I lost my soul mate without her ever knowing how much she was loved. I will never forgive myself for that.


End file.
